Shelter Me
by Patches O'Hoolahan
Summary: Once, Severus Snape was a reserved, quiet child, who giggled in private and dreamt about pretty smiles. Somewhere, somehow, he turned into the cantankerous Professor Snape. Surprisingly most of the reason why has to do with Harry Potter. This is the year that Harry discovers the truth. About everything. Severitus. Slash. (NOT HP/SS slash) Cross Generations. OOC. A little AU. Mpreg.
1. Prologue

As a sheltered child of a muggle father and pureblooded mother Severus Snape did not enter Hogwarts happily.

Eileen Prince raised in fortune and prestige rarely moved in circles that contained anyone but the most elite of society; it was no different when she met Tobias Snape. A muggle businessman born into equal if muggle wealth; a man who had tripled the fortunes left to him within the first two years of inheriting them at the tender age of twenty-three. A man who always followed through with his conquests and who never took no for an answer.

Eileen Prince escaped the often-oppressive nature of her parents' circles one evening to experience the forbidden fruit of the muggle world with her closest ally; her cousin Walburga Black.

It was unavoidable that well-established families had to deal with the muggle world from time to time, especially considering that vast amounts of the Prince and Black fortunes alike were earned in the muggle world. And it was very occasionally that those half bloods that saw to the Prince assets in the muggle world were invited to dinner after a business meeting. The Princes were not barbarians after all, and while they were perfectly happy to be apart from muggle filth, they had no real inclination or desire to actively hate those people.

It was at one of these dinners that Walburga Black met Timothy Barrett; an ordinary half-blood who had no real fortune or aspirations at greatness but was pleasing to the eye and kind to the often teased Walburga.

"Of course, he is not quite beautiful, and his name and station are so very ordinary, but I find, Eileen, that it doesn't quite matter to me as much as it once did. And even though I'm betrothed to Orion I think I'm quite at risk of losing my head and running away with Timothy."

Eileen lifted an eyebrow as she sunk into the chair at her dressing table, affixing the plainest earrings she owned, a set of pearl studs. "Of course, leaving Orion isn't exactly a difficult decision to make. In fact I think you should leave him anyway, even if this thing with Timothy doesn't work out."

Orion Black, Walburga's cousin on the other side of her family was, simply put, a bit of bastard. He was cruel and belittled Walburga at every turn. The man was handsome and had always had his pick of bedmates; he did not appreciate the match his parents had made for him. While Walburga was not particularly ugly she would never be anything more than plain, her dark hair was course and brittle, her eyes a flat brown and her pale skin prone to spotting. The girl was a little overweight to be sure, but what seventeen-year-old still experiencing puberty wasn't.

Well, Eileen wasn't, but her frame had always been small and her dark hair had always been the smooth sheet that Walburga coveted. And her skin though pale, was of that kind of ivory skin that went so well with the dark depths of her eyes. No, Eileen was uncommonly pretty, but Walburga begrudged her softhearted friend none of it.

Walburga remained silent from where she sat on Eileen's bed. She could only agree, but bemoaning her fate had never been something she took pleasure in indulging.

Walburga had been dressed for half an hour now. The red dress bringing out what little colour she had and the few hair potions that Eileen had pinched from her mother and charms that Eileen was able to perform had transformed ordinary Walburga's hair into a mass of dark, perfectly shaped ringlets.

Eileen finished and the two girls moved silently down the hall, their heels in their hands as they tiptoed down the stairs and past the drawing room where their parents were entertaining the McNairs.

Eileen was able to activate the floo network silently and the girls slipped on their heels before stepping through the passageway and into the Leaky Cauldron. Quickly, they checked their faces and dresses for unwanted blemishes of soot and hurried outside to where Timothy Barrett was waiting.

It was the summer before Eileen and Walburga's last year of Hogwarts and they were ready to be independent, and the shyly charming Timothy Barrett was just the man to help them along their way. He was much older, nearly twenty-eight, but he didn't look it and really, what seventeen-year-old girl doesn't appreciate an older man.

Timothy extended both his arms and each girl took hold and were happily led into a taxi.

"You both look lovely this evening." Timothy smiled, and wriggled in his seat so that he sat against the door and was better able to see Eileen and Walburga beside him.

"Thank you," Walburga giggled and Eileen could only smile. Walburga did not giggle often. It was adorable.

Timothy's grin widened, "A muggle business associate of mine is throwing a house-warming party for himself this evening, I thought that that would be the best place for you to experience some muggle culture."

"And everyone there will be a muggle?" Eileen couldn't help the pure excitement that laced her every word.

"Yes, as far as I am aware I am the only magically inclined person of Tobias' association. But you'll soon see that the muggle upper classes are not so very different from the wizarding kind. There's prejudice, and dripping wealth, and obscene pride in every society," Timothy said soberly.

Eileen couldn't help but like Timothy Barrett. He was kind, and he was intelligent and he seemed to genuinely like Walburga. There were worlds of difference between him and Orion Black.

The house that they arrived at was nothing short of a country mansion and Eileen was impressed that the muggles could do things as well as wizards, in terms of flaunting one's wealth.

The party wasn't like the parties that the Slytherins threw in their common room, there was no wild dancing or rapid forbidden jazz, and there was no drunken debauchery. It was all very civil and (apart from the lack in magic and house-elves) Eileen felt like she was at another of her parents' society gatherings. Of course being seventeen Eileen by now had at the very least an appreciation for these parties if not a fondness. She admired the silver tongues that spoke inanities to one another but truthfully revealed volumes about not only their business ventures and their familial events but also their deepest characters.

She appreciated the way that the lovely society maidens and matrons flitted about the room and made men fall in love with them with a carefully placed laugh, look or smile. It was all so deviously innocent and Eileen felt right at home, if occasionally a little desirous of a darkened room to dance wildly with Gilbert Hibertwaight, the heartthrob of seventh year.

But she forgot all about the Slytherin Common Room when Timothy Barrett introduced her to Tobias Snape. The man was tall and distinguished. His nose was, truth be told, rather large and hooked but it matched his face and demeanor so perfectly that Eileen couldn't help but find it uncommonly handsome. His hair dark, and eyes so piercingly blue that Eileen could feel herself go week at the knees.

Tobias Snape looked deeply into her eyes as he bent over her hand and he knew that Eileen Prince would be his newest acquisition.

Eileen didn't know what happened to Walburga and Timothy for the rest of the evening because she spent it lost in Tobias' eyes as he told her everything about himself, and questioned her about her own life. She only just had enough presence of mind to edit out the bits that were too magical for him to understand, and was surprised when it didn't take much effort at all. Tobias truly understood her position in life. And he truly matched it.

Within an hour Eileen had fallen in love and had decided that she would give this man anything he ever had the condescension of wanting from her.

* * *

Severus Snape at seventeen stood two inches shorter than his father. He was much thinner than his father had ever been, having inherited his mother's physique. He was thin, and frail and for many years his mother worried about her son's health.

When Severus was seven years old, his mother died. Severus couldn't really remember her very well, but he could remember faintly sparkling dark eyes and full lips that quirked into crooked smiles whenever Severus attempted to explain to her about his Legos or books.

Severus had always known that he was a wizard, just like he had always known that his father wasn't and that while Severus was in the muggle world he was to behave like the only child of an affluent businessman. When he turned eleven and received his Hogwarts letter there was no excitement; it was a fact of life. Severus would go because his father had promised his mother before her death, but being a wizard was not Severus' goal, and after school he would come back to the muggle world permanently and go to Oxford or Cambridge and take a degree, and then learn to take over his father's business interests.

On the second of September 1971 (the second day of Severus' magical education) Severus knew that he could never go back. He never told his father, and never planned to do so in the future. He would just quietly disappear.

Being the sickly child that he had been Severus never left the safety of his father's sprawling country estate. He met other children, but they were brought to him and Severus had no desire to play with them after his mother's death. Content to merely sit in his room and read.

Boarding the train to Hogwarts for the very first time had been a taxing experience for Severus, because it had been his first time leaving the estate, ever. And even though his back had remained ramrod stiff and his chin high above his boots, he had been terrified to be so alone for the first time ever.

And it hadn't helped that he'd been the immediate target for bullies with his awkward gangly figure, and still too large nose. But when he'd arrived at Hogwarts and had that magic seep into his bones for the first time Severus felt like he was coming home, even if it wasn't to particularly friendly faces.

Severus Snape had always been alone, but now he was lonely as well. His upbringing by a wealthy Englishman had made him reserved, and quiet. Had made his interests intellectual and had made him into a hybrid of mature man and awkward little boy. It also made him a social outcast in the cruel world of eleven-year-old snot nosed brats.

It wasn't until second year when a boy with windswept blond hair and pretty blue eyes sauntered into his lonely cabin on the train that Severus made a friend. Regulus Black was Severus' only friend, but he was the best he could have had. The boy spent the next six years of Severus' life at Hogwarts gently teasing him, encouraging him to take part in social events, sitting with him at dinner and defending him from idiotic stunts perpetrated by the very likes of his own elder brother.

Severus was cold, he was always cold, and having struggled since birth with illness he was very careful about his health. On September the first 1977 Severus stood on platform 9¾ in a heavy black wool coat and with his father by his side.

"We'll discuss your plans for next year at Christmas." Tobias said, setting down his son's trunk. Tobias was in the habit of doing most things for his child; ensuring that Severus didn't overtax himself and encourage further illness.

"Yes, father."

"Good." And with a nod, Tobias left the platform.

Severus sighed and pulled his trunk after him onto the train, making sure to secure an empty cabin before settling down to wait for Regulus to join him.

The sliding of the cabin door was expected, what wasn't expected was James Potter darting into the room and closing the door firmly behind him. Potter sunk to his knees, facing the door and peeked out the window that was banked into the door.

Severus cleared his throat and Potter jumped; evidently he had thought he was alone in the compartment. Severus kept his face perfectly blank and waited for Potter to explain himself.

Severus didn't know Potter well; only that he was close friends with Regulus' brother Sirius, and he was in Severus' year but the stoic boy rarely lifted his nose out of a book to be bothered with most of the people around him. And after the very early years Sirius and his gang had ceased their attentions on Severus. Bullying a person who was too reserved to show any sort of reaction got old fast.

Potter was surprised, but his face turned softer once he looked Severus over and offered him a charming crooked smile that made something inside of Severus' soul crack just a little bit. "Hullo."

"Hello," Severus said quietly.

"I hexed Sirius, he isn't very happy." Potter explained, quickly turning to glance out the window before looking back at Severus.

Severus kept his face perfectly neutral.

But being silent apparently made Potter talk all the more, "It was harmless really." Potter turned to stare out the window into the corridor again. "I just turned his hair silver… and his skin green. But really it'll wash off in a few days. He's such a baby."

Potter sighed, stood up and drew the blind across the window. He moved to sit on the bench across from Severus. "Wha'ch'ya reading?," Potter said, peering curiously at the book in Severus' hands.

"A muggle book," Severus answered.

Potter lifted an eyebrow, and nodded his head slowly. Severus could tell that Potter was thinking hard about something when his head tilted to the side and his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. Eventually he said, "Why come to Hogwarts at all if you hate the wizarding world so much?"

Severus had a lot of experience in keeping emotion off his face, so his expression remained carefully blank as he examined Potter's face. Potter was frowning a little and his stare was entirely sincere.

"I don't hate it," Severus admitted at length.

"Well, your family does at least." Potter's head tilted to the other side.

Severus didn't say anything.

Potter sighed, frustrated. "You make it very difficult for someone to have a conversation with you you know."

Severus' expression didn't even flicker.

"Sometimes I think you're a robot. No one can be so casually blank all the time. It's impossible." Potter scooted forward in his seat as if examining Severus at a nearer distance would give him the answers he wanted.

"You know about robots?" Severus said, deciding to at least give Potter something.

Potter grinned, "Yeah I do. My dad brings all sorts of stuff from the muggle world home when he goes to his business stuff. Mostly magazines and things, and one of them was all about the newest technological advancements and what the muggles hope to be doing in the next twenty years. It's absolutely fascinating."

Severus bit his tongue for a moment, deciding if he really wanted to go down this path, but he heard Regulus' voice in his head urging him to be more sociable.

"Why do you bother if you hate the muggle world?," Severus said.

Potter frowned at the sudden change in topic, "I don't hate the muggle world. I think it's really interesting."

Severus raised an eyebrow, trying to let Potter's own words communicate for Severus where he could not.

Potter's smile of understanding was full of boyish charm, "Oh really? You still find it so fascinating after six years?"

"More than that," Severus closed his book and put it beside him on the bench seating.

"How so?" Potter tilted his head to the side again, concentrating on the words slipping from Severus' highly guarded tongue.

"It's a part of who I am, in ways that the muggle world can never be." And then Severus had to literally bite his tongue. Confessing things like this to relative strangers was going to get him into trouble. He knew how much his father hated it when Severus was too open.

Potter leaned back in his seat, "Yeah, I get that. I mean, I find it all really interesting, but if I had to choose I know which world would win."

Severus inclined his head in agreement and Potter grinned. "You're not so bad Snape."

Severus didn't move a muscle.

Potter giggled a little, "You always seem so stuck up and like you think you're better than everybody else. But really you're just all reserved and shy aren't you."

Severus couldn't actually do anything to stop the blush that suffused his cheeks.

Potter giggled some more, "See I knew it. Well, don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Potter winked at him and then screamed bloody murder as the compartment door was flung open and a Slytherin green Sirius Black stormed inside, his wand pointed directly at Potter.

"You little bastard!" Black shouted.

"Oh come on Sirius! It was just a joke!" Potter said in a pitifully high tone of voice as he cowered in the corner of his seat.

Severus sat perfectly still.

"It won't come off! I've been in the bathroom for ten minutes trying to scrub this off of me." Black complained, and threw himself in the seat beside Potter. His wand stashed in his robes, Black buried his face in his hands.

Potter moved from his corner to sit properly again and gave Severus a secret smirk before looking towards Black, "It'll come off. Don't worry."

"When?" Black sounded positively pitiful and Severus couldn't help the silent laugh that lived inside his chest.

Potter choked on a giggle, "A day or two."

Black whimpered, "I'm ugly."

The door swung open again to admit a laughing Regulus Black, when he saw Potter and Black sitting across from Severus he could only laugh harder.

Black looked up and glared, but ultimately buried his face in his emerald green hands once again.

"I was just coming to tell you Severus," Regulus managed between chuckles, "But he's here already. It's brilliant!" He threw himself next to Severus much the same way as Black had done to Potter. Potter lifted an eyebrow at the action but Severus just stared blankly back.

"What are you doing in here anyway?" Black complained.

"It's our compartment." Regulus said absently, picking up Severus' discarded book and flipping through the pages, "Really Severus? Again? How many times are you going to read this?"

Severus was feeling a little too out of his depth with the two relative strangers in the room to give his usual response so he remained motionless.

"I have to get out of here. I can't bare to look into his smug face anymore!" Black erupted pointing his finger (rather rudely) in his little brother's face.

Regulus made a face but said nothing, laying Severus' book aside.

Potter sighed, and laughed a little, "All right. I'll see you later Snape," Potter said the last bit a little too casually as he followed Black out the door.

Regulus turned to Severus, frowning in curiosity, "Care to explain that?"

Severus could only smirk, "Only if you tell me why Laurel Bones wrote to me this summer about how much she loves you."

"She did what?" Regulus sat up straight, genuinely intrigued.

Severus couldn't help laughing, "You're so gullible."

"You're a twit." Regulus huffed, and lightly punched his much scrawnier older best friend in the arm.


	2. Chapter One

**Author's Note:** I should have mentioned this earlier and I feel it prudent to make sure I do actually communicate it before everybody gets all confused. This story is not canon compliant. It is mostly for the first book, but after that I only use the vaguest of out linings from the books for the story. The reason for this being mainly because I read the books so long ago now that if I tried to be canon compliant I would actually offend a great many people, but also for this plot device many things that happened in the books are no longer possible. In any case, I have warned you, so don't be upset when things don't match up the way that you feel they should.

Another point: I am extremely grateful to all reviews that I have received so far and hope to continue to receive. I ask only that readers sign in to review so that I can respond to each and every one of your messages. If you are not a member of this site then I would still love to hear from you, but I'll just have to settle with replying to you in my imagination only. Thank you.

I hope from this point on to be a fairly silent author within the actual chapters of the story.

**Warnings for this chapter:** Graphic violence.

* * *

At the age of twelve Harry Potter knew quite a few things as absolute fact about the world. His parents were dead; his aunt was secretly a horse who had disguised herself as a woman; his cousin was a pig who deserved to live in the muck with all the other pigs; and his uncle's fists were far too powerful for Harry to dodge. He knew other things of course, but they were all hardly relevant in the middle of summer holidays.

Harry's first year at Hogwarts had lulled him into a false sense of security, which had been so kindly shattered for him in the first hour of summer holidays at the Dursley home.

Yeah, Harry had fought with a teacher who'd been possessed by a vengeful, but very dead, Dark Lord. And yeah Harry had made enemies in the Slytherins, and yeah Harry had met a person who could actually hate him even more than the Dursleys did in Professor Snape. But it had been a good year, the best yet in fact, because Harry had made friends, good ones too, and they all genuinely liked Harry back. And Harry had been happy until he stepped through the front door, where Uncle Vernon had immediately frog marched him upstairs to the smallest bedroom and bolted the door shut.

Well, Harry hadn't made the same mistake twice. He knew exactly what he was coming home to at the end of second year, and he didn't flinch when his uncle slapped him and threw him into the spare bedroom, and he didn't expect to be let out anytime soon after that; and he wasn't disappointed.

Weeks later and Harry was even paler in the middle of summer than he had been at the start of it; he hadn't left the house once since he'd come home. He lay on his bed, his arms folded behind his head and watched as the gentle wind outside brushed through the leaves of the trees in the fractured reflection on the ceiling high above him. Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, something was stirring in his gut, something was happening, he didn't know what yet, but he knew with absolute surety that his thirteenth year would make up for the lack of dangerous activity of his second year in spades. And as Harry opened his eyes the hour hand slipped past the twelve and twelve year old Harry Potter turned thirteen.

Harry stood when he heard the first tapping at his window, and a veritable parliament of owls flew into his bedroom, Harry couldn't help the giggles as the owls flew around his head for a few turns and then veered off to drop his various packages on his bed, the final owl making sure to clip Harry on the head with her wing. But Hedwig was not among them and so Harry left the window open even when the last one had left.

There were eight articles on Harry's bed, and as he examined them he found only two were letters and the rest packages from his friends. One each from Hermione and Ron, one from the Weasley family (or in other words Mrs. Weasley), one from Hagrid, one from Neville and the last a very small package from Ginny Weasley; at the last Harry sighed in fond frustration. Ginny Weasley still nursed a fervent crush on Harry and he couldn't fathom why exactly. She barely ever spoke to him and he barely ever even saw her. Sure she'd been at Hogwarts the past year but she spent most of her time making new friends, writing in fluffy pink journals and watching Harry from afar; not actually ever talking to him. Harry returned none of her feelings; she was cute, and she was kind but she was like (what he imagined one would be like) a sister to him.

His musings were cut short with a loud explosion that pressed on whatever ingrained human characteristic it was inside Harry that made him duck down on the floor for cover. The bang, which Harry had quickly identified as either an illegal firework, a car back firing, or a gunshot, was followed by the most inhuman scream that it tore at Harry's insides, pulling tears from him before he could even assess the mysterious bumps in the night.

Harry ran to his window and looked out; by the glow of the full moon and the dim porch light below Harry saw Uncle Vernon standing in the middle of the garden, a rifle in hand and a fluffy white thing smeared with red lying by his feet. Before Harry even had time to process the scene before him he knew he couldn't look anymore because if he did he'd never be able to sleep again, and yet he couldn't look away and without being aware of how it happened at all he was crouching down in the garden, his hands reaching for but not quite touching the mangled bits of delicate bones and unidentifiable gore that used to be his bird.

Harry couldn't see very well, the tears in his eyes turning everything into an almost comical blur but he could feel just fine and when Uncle Vernon hit him on the side of the head with the end of his rifle Harry fell to the side, clutching the bloody tresses at his temple and crying out; for Hedwig or for himself he didn't know.

"What did I tell you about that bird?" Vernon demanded but Harry could hardly hear him. "Tell me! What did I tell you about that bird?" And this time when Harry didn't respond Uncle Vernon delivered a swift kick to Harry's side to nudge him towards answering. "Speak." Vernon kicked out again and Harry coughed and wheezed as he tried to pull himself away, but the enormity of the discovery that the thing that used to be his closest confidant was now nothing more than blood and guts weakened Harry in ways that Uncle Vernon's fists could never dream of doing.

"Answer me!" The kick was harder this time and caught Harry in the soft part just below his ribs. Harry curled in on himself, trying to protect his most vulnerable places, and when he still did not answer Uncle Vernon placed his bare foot on Harry's side, pressing down ever so gently, just so that Harry could feel the weight on his ribs.

"What did I say?" Uncle Vernon's tone was now dangerously quiet and even though Harry registered the immediate danger if he did not speak he found he could not, the words stuck in his throat, the tears poured too freely, his nose was blocked, his throat was closed and he couldn't breathe enough to vocalize anything.

Uncle Vernon pressed down, slowly, very slowly so that Harry could feel as every tiny pound was added, threatening to crush his ribs. But Vernon did not ask again, and Harry knew that even if by some miraculous grace he were able to suddenly speak now it would not impede Uncle Vernon's course. He would press down on Harry until all of his weight crushed as many of the boy's ribs as it could. It was torture, and they both knew it, and Vernon couldn't help the smirk as Harry's tears ended and his eyes grew vacant as the weight became too much and two of Harry's ribs gave way in a sickening crunch.

Harry was completely silent as Vernon pushed all of his weight onto Harry, so that Uncle Vernon was balancing only on his right foot on top of Harry's body, the left dangling a few inches off the grass below. Screams tore through Harry's body, but they didn't sound, they didn't escape and they stayed buried deep inside Harry's soul. As they always did.

When Harry couldn't actually breathe anymore because of his now destroyed ribs Vernon finally moved, stepping off Harry so completely and suddenly that Harry was at last able to emit a small gasp of pain. A vicious kick to the head and Harry remembered he wasn't _supposed_ to emit any noises, especially not when they were outside and any passing neighbor could hear over the back garden fence.

The kick also had the double effect of rendering Harry unconscious.

Harry didn't know for how long he remained semi-conscious in his bedroom, but he assumed it was days. He would fade in and out, sleeping because his body was too exhausted to do anything else, awake because there was too much pain to let him sleep. But Harry was well used to the first weeks of a long recovery from one of Vernon's over zealous punishments and so did not worry overly if he would die or live. What would come would come, and if he died, well, it wasn't like he was going to be around to cry about it.

It was one evening in fevered dreams induced by unbearable pain that Harry saw the figure standing at the end of his bed, framed by the blue light of the night streaming through the window behind him, his dark hair stringy and chin length, eyes so dark Harry couldn't distinguish cheek, from eye bank to eye ball. But he could see the figure's expression just fine; one of pure anguish, a man burning from the inside. There were no tears, however, and Harry felt as if that made the expression even worse, the pain more terrible. It was an emotion that was only appropriate for a stormy night, with sheets of rain to disguise the utter turmoil being wrought within the soul. But there was no storm, and there was no hiding it, and it made Harry weep. It made Harry cry in his sleep because it could only have been a dream, Professor Snape could not possibly be standing in Harry's room, could not possibly be being torn apart by emotion. It just wasn't possible.

* * *

_Severus settled down in his usual solitary desk at the front of the potions classroom, waiting for the rest of the class to arrive._

_It was a surprise when the chair next to him was pulled out and James Potter sat down. The previous year there had been thirteen students in the N.E.W.T s class and Severus had quite happily worked alone. Severus knew for a fact that James Potter had shared a desk with Lily Evans, and he also knew that Lily Evans was still in the class because she was sitting directly behind him. What Severus didn't know was why James Potter was not sitting next to his girlfriend._

_Severus didn't give voice to any of his questions, however, and stared blankly at Potter as the boy settled himself in._

_When Potter noticed the staring he smirked a little, lifting an eyebrow he greeted, "Snape."_

_Severus inclined his head, but the silent question burned in his eyes and finally Potter rolled his eyes and sighed. He jostled in his chair, and wrenched it to the side so that he could sit closer to Severus and then he leaned in. Instinctively Severus leaned away, not used to having his personal space invaded so._

_Potter huffed and reached out, hitting Severus on the back of the head. That shocked Severus out of his studied blankness and he turned his wide eyes to meet Potter's exasperated ones._

_"What?" Severus said._

_"Come over here you dolt, I'm not going to eat you." Potter flapped his hand at Severus in a manner in which Severus supposed was Potter's 'come hither' action._

_Slowly Severus moved back to sit properly in his chair, but he refused to lean into James Potter._

_Potter sighed again but leaned over anyway, so that his lips rested just above Severus' ear. Severus tried to suppress the shiver that the breath streaming across his skin caused, but he didn't think that he did a very convincing job._

_"Lily and I broke up okay. And I mean I'm all for 'let's be friends' but having all our meals together and being in the same study group is more than enough bonding time for me with my ex-girlfriend, thank you very much." Potter didn't move away once he finished though, and it made Severus feel a little uneasy, it made something in his stomach flutter uncomfortably. Eventually, Severus felt Potter sigh and move away, as if Severus had disappointed him in some way. What surprised Severus most though, was the awful sinking feeling in his gut at the thought of disappointing Potter. Severus couldn't understand it, but it made him feel terrible._

_At length Severus said, "I'm sorry."_

_Potter smiled that charming crooked smile at him again. "Don't be. It really was mutual. We're not as compatible as we used to be." The look that Potter gave him could almost be called a leer and it didn't upset Severus nearly as much as he had expected it to._

_When class ended and Potter left in a hurry to make it to the Divination Tower in time Severus realized that Potter had never moved his chair back to its proper place. They had sat with their shoulders close enough to brush all session, the shivers that shook down Severus' spine refused to be suppressed._

* * *

When Harry awoke again it wasn't to the pale cream ceiling of Dudley's second bedroom. The ceiling was white, a subtle difference sure but an extremely important one, seeing as he was obviously not in the Dursley residence any longer and could be in any number of even more dangerous locals. But before Harry could concoct any wild theories about whatever new captivity he had unconsciously (literally this time) stumbled into he realized that most of his pain was gone. His ribs felt whole, if still a little bruised; that horrible wheezing that had accompanied every breath was gone, even if breathing was still a little difficult; that part of his belly where Uncle Vernon's foot had hooked in so mercilessly felt like nothing more than a little stomach discomfort. Wherever he was he had to be relatively safe, because he had been healed. And it had to be a magical place, because Harry could feel the residue of being healed, rather than the drugged feeling of being treated.

As Harry awoke fully and he was able to look around the room some he realized that he had to be in a hospital of some description. The walls were a soothing green, the bed linen thin and white. The bed was one of those with wheels attached, though they seemed to be locked in place at the moment. The was an empty green chair by the bedside, turned towards Harry and placed so close to the bed someone must have occupied it at some point.

Harry sighed and waited for someone to come explain to him exactly what had happened. He would be disappointed, because he fell asleep ten minutes later, a good two minutes before Severus Snape re-entered the room after having been called away by a nurse to fill out further documents for his charge.

This time when Harry woke Dumbledore was standing by his bedside, holding his hand and smiling kindly down at him as he blinked his eyes open. Feeling a presence on the left side of the bed also Harry turned to see Professor Snape sitting stiffly in the chair, a hand oddly outstretched on the edge of Harry's bed. Snape's eyes flickered when Harry looked down at the hand, but he did not move it, he only stared impassively back at Harry.

Harry huffed and looked to Dumbledore, ready to have his answers.

"Hello there my boy, how do you feel?" Professor Dumbledore's expression was filled with caring and what Harry could only identify as pity.

"Fine, thanks," Harry said dismissively.

Dumbledore frowned a little and Harry heard a sigh to his left, but he ignored it.

"Would you like to tell us what happened?" Dumbledore asked, his thumb stroking the back of Harry's hand gently, it made Harry uncomfortable and he carefully retracted his hand from the old man's, burying it under his bed covers as if he were suddenly cold.

"What do you mean? Where exactly am I?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly, as if he couldn't believe Harry was saying what he was saying. "What do I mean? Harry, my boy, you were severely injured when Professor Snape found you. I, _we_, would like to know how you came to be that way."

Harry cleared his throat and just barely kept the small smirk off his face when he said, "I fell down the stairs."

Dumbledore's expression at that was so heartbreaking that Harry wanted to cry and yet at the same time wanted to rail at the man for daring to try and make Harry feel even more guilty for the events of that night.

The room was silent for a long time before Harry was finally able to say something, and the way his voice shook and trembled and broke made him wish he'd said nothing at all. "He… Hedwig… she's… all… I can't forget…" And Harry's sentence had to trail off because he didn't know how to finish.

Dumbledore nodded sedately, as if trying to find words he did not have to reassure Harry.

"She has been retrieved. She awaits burial at your convenience." Snape's voice was smooth and soft, and it whispered through Harry's ears and settled deep inside his heart. A morbid thought, but a thoughtful one. Harry couldn't have bared it if Vernon had disposed of her body, or worse, had just left her there to decompose on his back garden like nothing more than a common rodent.

Harry nodded, "Thank you."

After another tense moment of silence Dumbledore sighed again, as if greatly put out. "I must go now Harry, I will return later and I hope that you will feel ready to admit to the origin of your injuries. That kind of treatment cannot go unpunished."

Harry didn't even move to look at the Headmaster as he left. What was he supposed to say? He didn't know. He didn't care what the Headmaster thought in any case, Harry just wanted to close his eyes some more and see if he could forget the way that snowy white feathers looked drenched in gore.

"Sleep does not conquer all ills, but it does allow one time to process," Snape said, his voice still that smooth timbre that moved in tendrils through Harry's very being and served better than any potion or drug to sooth and calm Harry down.

Harry nodded. There was enough time to remember his hate for this professor later, for now he allowed that voice to calm him back to sleep. And when he woke up again he would ask the multitude of questions that crowded the tip of his tongue, but were too laborious for him to tax his overburdened mind with at the moment.


	3. Chapter Two

**Warnings for this chapter**: Graphic violence, slash (which is now relevant for every consequential chapter, consider this a blanket warning)

* * *

It was so bright that Harry had to squint as he looked out over the valley that stretched out before him. The light wasn't quite the bright yellow of sunshine but more artificial, whiter, glaringly so. And as Harry looked out the sky became streaked with red, and at the very apex of the sky it opened and delicate little bones poured down, heading straight for the pit of the valley, but half way there, at eyelevel with Harry on the hill they suddenly stopped and formed. A macabre version of an owl skeleton was created and once the bones ceased jostling for their appropriate places the owl became animated and looked up directly into Harry's eyes.

Harry screamed.

Hedwig sored towards him, and in the skeletal face Harry saw accusation that he could only admit his guilt to, as his throat closed and tears streamed down his face.

"I'm sorry," Harry tried to say but it came out as little more than a whisper and Harry cowered as Hedwig swooped down upon him; her beak delivering a cruel bite to his ear. Harry felt the blood seep and then pour until his entire body was covered in blood, until there was a puddle of blood at his feet. Hedwig squawked and then fell backwards into the puddle of Harry's blood, her bones shattering and spreading, disappearing as they sunk to the bottom.

Harry fell to his knees in the middle of the blood and bones and tore at his clothing, crying and begging for a forgiveness he knew that would never be given.

As Harry awoke he felt a hand on his face, and another gripping his own hand almost cruelly. The hand on his face was gentle as it caressed his cheek and felt his forehead and wiped away the tears that pooled in his eyes. It was dark and Harry couldn't really see, the tears and dim light of the moon outside not enough to distinguish anything in the room properly.

"It was a dream. A dream." The voice soothed as Harry couldn't stop the tears. "Shush now, it was only a dream. You're safe." It couldn't be anyone's voice but Snape's and even though Harry knew distantly that it should have made him shy away from the contact he couldn't help pressing his face forward into the hand and squeezing the fingers entwined with his own.

"I'm sorry." Harry pleaded, still seeking the forgiveness that he needed. "Please, I'm sorry."

"I know, I know. It's forgiven Harry, it's forgiven." And even though Harry knew the words were simply said to calm him and coax him back to sleep he couldn't help but be comforted by them as his eyes closed again and he let the hand on his face stroke his cheek until he was firmly asleep again.

* * *

_ Severus' nose was so firmly implanted in 'The Healer's Advanced Guide to Magical Ails and Maladies' that he was almost a danger to those he passed in the halls, but not quite because he kept, instinctively, to the wall; the better to stay out of others' way and to keep him from taking another wrong turn._

_These efforts appeared for naught, however, when a passing shoulder bumped into his own, sending him falling backwards and instead of letting go the book to break his fall with his hands, he clutched it tighter to his chest and closed his eyes, waiting to feel and hear the crunch of his head against the flagstones. But he was caught instead, around the middle; suspending him in an awkward position with his feet still on the ground and the top of his head just brushing gently against the floor, his hips supported by strong arms._

_Severus frowned, waiting for the world to stabilize itself again before he would demand to be let go of from the unwelcome embrace. But he was interrupted when he heard giggling. And Severus knew that giggle; he'd been listening to it in Potions classes for weeks now._

_Severus sighed, "Let go, Potter, you imbecile." But there was no real ill humour in Severus' voice, if anything there was faint amusement._

_Potter continued to laugh as he lowered Severus to the floor, in undeniable gentleness, and Severus couldn't contain the gasp when he felt Potter sink to the floor on his knees beside him, and when he saw Potter lean over him Severus couldn't help but liken their positions to that of lovers and the blush that spread across his cheeks had Potter giving him that soft smile. That soft smile that Severus had seen a few times before directed at him as they sat side by side in Potions. That soft smile that Severus secretly felt was especially created for Severus. Severus could feel himself becoming consumed by that smile._

_"I'm sorry Severus, I didn't see you," Potter said, his smile losing that intimate feel as it moved into his crooked grin, the one that made Severus' heart melt just a little bit. "Any reason why saving this book is more important than your own head?" Potter plucked the book out of Severus' lax grip._

_Severus shrugged awkwardly, "It's a book."_

_Potter laughed and gave Severus his favorite soft smile again, "Of course," he said so quietly Severus wasn't quite sure he was meant to hear._

_"James! Hurry up would you? Mary is in the common room already. She'll be done before we get there." Sirius Black's voice echoed down the hall from the mouth of it where he stood, waiting._

_"You go." James called back, not looking away from Severus._

_"You can't miss this James." Black's voice was nothing but annoyed._

_"I have no desire to see Mary MacDonald model her new swimwear for the entire House." Potter rose to his feet and held his hand out for Severus to take._

_"Have you gone barmy? What the hell man? It's Mary Macdonald!" Even as Black was protesting he moved further and further away from them, as if he was protesting only because he felt he had to._

_"Exactly," Potter murmured but Black couldn't hear him from this far away, Black wasn't even in the hallway to answer him anymore anyway._

_"Exactly," Potter said again as his hands moved to cup Severus' cheeks, one hand venturing back to stroke through Severus' chin length silk tresses, the other moving forward to hold Severus' chin and Severus couldn't look away from those oddly coloured hazel eyes, those eyes that burned with something that Severus had never seen before. And Severus knew what was coming because Potter made sure that he would as he continued to gaze back into Severus' eyes and Severus couldn't help but tilt his chin up so that Potter would finally, finally, stoop the last inch between their heights and touch his own lips to Severus' and when he did Severus' knees gave way immediately. The touch of lips was nothing more than a gentle slide, and yet it stopped Severus' breathing entirely, and forced him to lean forward into Potter or risk falling again. Potter huffed a laugh but obligingly wrapped Severus in his arms, nuzzling his face in Severus' hair where Severus had his head buried in Potter's shoulder._

* * *

"He shot my bird," Harry said, his voice affronted, none of the tears or anguish present from the nightmares of the previous night as he complained to the silent form of Snape. Snape who sat perfectly straight and static in the chair, still, all these hours later, and watched Harry's ramblings without expression or interruption. "The bastard shot my bird! Did you hear me? He shot her, like he was going hunting and she was a duck. Who does that?" Harry knew that the incredulity in his tone was almost comical but he couldn't help it. The shock of it all was wearing off, but now Harry felt something bubbling in his gut, something that tasted a lot like vengeance. "It was the middle of the night! What was he doing up and about with a rifle in his arms anyway. I'm telling you the man is insane. Insane." Harry huffed at Snape when he received no response.

"Anyway, when am I getting out of here? Am I at a wizarding hospital? I didn't even know they existed, well, I suppose there is the infirmary at school and that's sort of like a hospital isn't it?" Harry questioned as he lifted the covering on the dish of his breakfast, lumpy off yellow eggs on cold toast. Delicious. Harry rolled his eyes, but he hadn't eaten in a few days and he supposed it couldn't kill him; he was in a hospital after all.

"St. Mungo's is the hospital. Your release is entirely dependent on your recovery." Snape answered at last, finally moving so that his chin leant on his fist, his elbow on the chair's armrest.

"I'm fine now." Harry mumbled through the egg, when a fragment flew out and landed on his plate Snape's expression only made Harry laugh.

"Yes, well, as much as I value your medical knowledge, why don't we let the professionals decide?" Snape stood from the chair and moved to the window behind him, he looked down into what Harry assumed was a street below, Harry could only see a tall building across the street from his bed.

"No, honestly, I'm fine," Harry insisted, taking a sip of the artificially sugared apple juice. "But, I mean I'm not in any hurry to go home. So whatever."

Snape turned around, and leaning casually back against the window sill he fixed Harry with a hard stare, "Home?"

Harry spoke slowly as if Snape were mentally challenged, "Yeah, you know the place where my family are, where my things are kept, where I sleep. That place that I spend every summer. Home."

Snape glared at the tone but didn't mention it, "You want to go _home_?" He spat the word home like it was an expletive.

Harry raised an eyebrow, "I didn't say I _wanted_ to go home. I asked when I _would_ be going home."

Snape huffed and looked away, twisting his neck to look down at the street again, "You're not going back to the Dursleys."

Harry almost laughed, "Oh, and is this your decision? They're my family."

Snape didn't even look at Harry, "Mine and the Headmaster's. He is your magical guardian and as you are a magical child his decisions outweigh those of your muggle guardians."

"Why can't I go home?" Harry was incredulous, he didn't remember doing anything wrong.

Snape turned back and looked at him sedately, merely lifting an eyebrow, "Why would you want to go back there?"

Harry half laughed, "I just told you! It's my home."

Snape rolled his eyes, "That place is not a home. It's a prison."

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes, "Don't be so dramatic."

Snape's glare was so dark Harry almost had to laugh. "Why are you being so blasé about your near death?"

"I wasn't going to die. And even if I did it's not like it'd be the end of the world. I'd go to the afterlife and be with my parents. Uncle Vernon is a little insane, I'll be the first to admit, but he is my uncle. Everyone's family is a little crazy."

Snape's glare turned incredulous, "Not everyone's uncle tries to kill them."

"That's true, and mine didn't either. He punished me. Yeah he got carried away but he wasn't trying to kill me. Don't look at me like that; I'm not making excuses for him. I'm serious! I know the man; he doesn't mean to hurt me as much as he does in the end. He just gets swept up in the moment. His intentions are much less cruel than his actions." Harry pushed the table away from him, rolling it down to sit over his feet, unwilling to finish the last of the egg.

"He killed your bird," Snape reminded.

Harry frowned, "Yeah, part of that insanity I told you about." But the reminder turned the breakfast in his stomach to brick and he suddenly felt extremely ill, like he might never be able to ever get up out of the bed again. Clutching his stomach Harry sank back into the pillows, turning to lie on his side; facing away from Snape.

He heard Snape exhale heavily from behind him, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Harry didn't want an apology from Snape, regardless of the fact that it was actually a miracle that the man knew the words. "Don't be. He did. I hate him. What do you want me to do about it?" Harry's voice was nothing but defeated.

"It's not about what I want," Snape answered.

"No? Then why is it that you're upset when I give you answers that you don't want to hear? Admit it, this is a little bit about you, about you wanting to feel better about my upbringing by having me face my demons and becoming a better and stronger person. Thank you, but I like myself just the way I am."

"Don't you want to move past your demons, as you put it? Why would you want them to haunt you?"

Harry sighed, "Why would I need to move past something that I have accepted as part of my life? Sure, I'll be happy when I'm not beaten up anymore, but really, it doesn't define me, because I don't let it. What you want me to do is open up all the possible hurt feelings I could have and sit in my misery so that you or Dumbledore or whoever can have the pleasure of putting me back together."

Snape was silent.

"I like my cracks and bruises. They make me me. Don't pull my tape off, I put it there for a reason."

After a long moment Snape finally said, "Pretty words and sentiments for a teenage boy, to be sure. But you tell me you're just fine after you have another nightmare. Tell me that you like the strings and tape that bind you together when you're crying in my arms about your bird, or how much your stomach hurts. Perhaps there is some ulterior motive in my actions towards you, perhaps I have selfish reasons for wanting to help you, but can you honestly tell me that you would rather I leave you alone and let you wake up in the middle of a night terror every night. Let you cry yourself back to sleep, every night for the rest of your life."

Harry hated Snape in that moment; hated him heart and soul. He had hoped that the activities of the previous night would be conveniently forgotten, he had hoped that Snape had enough human decency to not throw Harry's weaknesses in his face.

But Harry said nothing, and Snape didn't seem to expect a response as the room settled into silence. Harry pretended to sleep and Snape pretended that he didn't know that Harry didn't.

When Harry's lunch was brought in and the orderly asked Snape if he was all right Harry realized that Snape had not left his side once apart from when he had woken up that first time. Harry sat up and wheeled the table to sit over his lap, "Why are you here anyway?"

Snape lifted an eyebrow; he was back in the chair now, "Would you rather be alone?"

Harry lifted the lid off the plate and frowned down at the cheese sandwich, not a lover of the plastic kind of cheese he didn't exactly salivate over his lunch option. "That's not what I said. I want to know why you want to be here?"

Snape was silent for a moment as he watched Harry poke his sandwich, "Would you like something else for lunch?"

Harry looked up, eyes wide in hope, "That's possible?"

Snape merely inclined his head and stood, "I will be back momentarily. In the mean time I suggest you at least eat the fruit." Snape left without another word.

Harry ate the small fruit salad slowly, waiting for Snape to return with better food, and wandering why the man was being so generous. The last two years had proved him to be a distant, and often-cruel professor, who hated all his students alike. But over the past few hours the man was proving to be a bit of a contradiction.

When Snape returned he deposited a white Tupperware container on Harry's table.

"What is it?" Harry didn't actually wait for a response as he carefully pulled back the lid. It was nothing more than a sandwich but it was filled with salads and ham and was about the size of Harry's head. "Thank you!" He pulled out half of the sandwich and eagerly took a bite.

Snape nodded, and sat himself down again.

"Where's it from?" Harry asked through his mouthful.

Snape grimaced. "My home. Please swallow."

Harry grinned, and then swallowed. "You went home and made me a sandwich?"

Snape scoffed, "No, I went home and showered. My maid made you a sandwich."

Harry laughed.

It was only after his lunch tray was cleared away that he thought to ask, "So if I'm not to return to the Dursleys where am I supposed to go?"

"The Headmaster has filed paperwork with the ministry to put you into my temporary custody. He would have taken you himself but he's abroad at the moment. He only came back when I summoned him yesterday." Snape flicked some lint off his trousers.

Harry lifted an eyebrow, "You want me to come and live with you?"

Snape nodded, "At the moment there are no better options. Your Weasleys are in Egypt, and the Grangers are in France. The other homes of your classmates are inappropriate for you at the moment."

Harry sighed, "So, when do we leave?"

"Tomorrow, I suspect."

After a moment of silence Harry said, "You can go home you know. You don't have to sit here and babysit me."

Snape inclined his head in acknowledgement but said nothing.

"Do you think you could get your maid to make me dinner too?"


	4. Chapter Three

"There's a severe concussion Mr. Potter, you must take note!," The Healer chided as Harry scuttled about the room gathering errant belongings and packing them in the bag Snape had brought. The Professor had stepped out for a moment; a bathroom break Harry suspected.

"Yes, but you said I could go." Harry found a sock in the top draw of the bedside table. He didn't know if it was actually his but he packed it anyway, no use leaving a perfectly good sock behind.

"I said you could go as long as you allowed yourself to continue healing! And by that I mean not overextending yourself!" The Healer threw his arms uselessly to his sides in his frustration. "Mr. Potter you will do yourself a greater injury if you do not take things slowly."

Harry stopped in his packing, partly because he was done and partly to turn his head and stare up at the Healer, "Of course I will. It's summer, what could I possibly get into?"

Harry's tone had been a little too innocent and the Healer regarded Harry wearily as he settled Harry's chart against his chest once again.

"I assure you, Healer Adams, that I will personally see to it that Mr. Potter has ample rest and time to recover." Snape's smooth tones were followed by his physical being stepping into the room. His arms crossed over his chest, his glare shooting down his nose at the young Healer.

Healer Adams cleared his throat and looked about nervously before shaking his head and offering Snape a trembling smile, "Thank you sir. Mr. Potter's concussion has been healed but he will suffer the after effects of it for another day or so. His ribs will continue to be tender to some degree, and are still weakened from their break, but it's nothing more that a few days' time won't fix."

"Thank you." Snape inclined his head.

The Healer coughed, offered Harry a small smile and excused himself from the room.

"You are free to leave, Mr. Potter. I have been in contact with the Headmaster and he wishes you a successful recovery," Snape said as he moved over to stand beside Harry and peer into the now packed bag. He sighed, "It seems your organizational skills leave much to be desired."

Harry looked down at the bag. "It's not that bad."

"Tell me Potter, do you know how to fold clothing?" Snape, however, closed the bag and lifted it to his shoulder.

Harry gaped, "You don't have to carry it for me."

Snape shook his head, "I really do despair for your intellect. Did you not just hear your Healer? You are not to strain yourself. Honestly, I don't even know why people bother trying to instruct you any longer when you just do whatever pleases you anyway."

Harry couldn't find it in himself to respond verbally but he did roll his eyes and huff as he followed the Professor out the door.

"Respect Potter, is another thing that is sorely lacking in your person."

Harry didn't know how Dumbledore expected him to live with this man.

* * *

_Before Severus could do a thing about it he discovered that he was quite in love with James Potter. Halloween brought with it realisations that were not quite expected, when James Potter appeared in close fitting jeans and asked Severus to take a walk with him in the Hogwarts Gardens._

_ Potter had made a point of it to greet Severus and smile disarmingly at him every time that they passed in the halls. Potter consistently moved his chair close to Severus in every potions class, ostensibly so that they could speak quietly and undisturbed, but the fact that they never actually spoke during potions because of Severus' dedication to the art was never mentioned._

_ But Potter hadn't tried to kiss Severus since that afternoon in the hall, and he'd made no mention of it at all. It had gotten to the point where Severus had almost convinced himself the whole thing had been some kind of lust-driven dream. He'd certainly had enough of them about Potter to make it plausible._

_ Potter was a good few inches taller than Severus and much broader in the shoulders. There was nothing remotely scrawny about the quidditch-toned body of the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. And so it was with ease that Potter was able to turn Severus around and hold Severus' face between his large brown hands and kiss him before Severus could take a breath. It wasn't long, and it was barely more than a hard press of the lips, but it was only Severus' second kiss and left him quite stunned when Potter pulled away. The hands stayed on Severus' cheeks as Potter ducked his head slightly to level their eye-lines. But Severus wasn't really seeing Potter; he was too shocked._

_ "Severus?," Potter said quietly after a moment of utter silence._

_ Finally Severus looked into Potter's eyes and could do little more than sigh as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on Potter's shoulder, Potter wrapped his arms around Severus' shoulders._

_ "Are you all right?," Potter asked._

_ Severus shook his head against Potter's shoulder._

_ "Is it all right that I kissed you? It's just that I couldn't keep it in anymore. I've been in love with you for ages. Even before we started talking I think. A part of me, I'm sure, has loved you since I first saw you standing on platform 9¾ in first year." Potter was murmuring. His fingers stroking through Severus' chin length satin black hair. "And I kissed you in the hall but you never said anything after that, so I didn't know if you had regretted that I had done it or not."_

_ Severus couldn't respond. He was being entirely overwhelmed, and so he just tightened his grip on Potter's deep green shirt._

_ "I mean yeah I was with Lily, but I was confused, and I mean it wasn't like you knew I even existed, for all the attention that I was trying to get from you." Potter chuckled darkly and Severus could feel him shaking his head. "Severus? I need you to say something now because I'm starting to get nervous. I mean, I know you, and I know you don't like to speak when you feel it's unnecessary, especially when you feel your actions are speaking loudly enough for you. But just this once, I need to hear the actual words."_

_ Severus sighed, and buried his nose further into Potter's shoulder, "I find that I am quite content right here, at this moment."_

_ Potter laughed, a deep laugh that came out of his belly and shook his entire frame violently. It was contagious and Severus couldn't help but join in, and as they laughed they separated so that they could see each other, and Severus could see such tenderness in Potter's eyes that it made his knees weak._

_ "You're giggling." Potter observed and Severus blushed. "Don't be embarrassed. It's adorable."_

_ Severus blushed harder and turned his face away, but Potter took hold of his chin and kissed him again, this time slowly and gently; it quite stole Severus' breath._

* * *

"This is your bedroom Potter, I would thank you to save the staff the trouble and keep it tidy."

Harry rolled his eyes and huffed, for what seemed like the tenth time in as many minutes.

"Yes, Professor." His tone was insolent, he knew, but Snape didn't say anything; he just merely inclined his head.

The room was much larger than Harry's own but rather unremarkable for all that. The bed was large in the middle of the room, and the rest of the furniture dark and solid to match. The white paint and large windows that flanked a set of French doors made the room pleasant.

"There is a terrace out those doors Potter. I would ask you not to venture out there unassisted at this time."

Snape and he were still standing just on the inside of the doorway, side by side as they surveyed the room.

Harry turned an incredulous eye to the dark man beside him. "I'm not two, you know, I won't fall off a first floor balcony."

Snape didn't even look down at him; he just kept looking about the room as if making sure everything was where he had left it. "Nevertheless Potter you are still recovering from a severe concussion; lightheadedness and fainting spells are still an expected part of your recovery." Snape's tone was absent, and his inattention to the conversation frustrated Harry.

"If you need anything, and I am not immediately available to you, any of the staff should be able to assist you. In matters that are magic related I would ask you to refer them only to me. The staff are all muggles."

Harry gaped. That was the last thing he'd expected from his dark and obviously Pure-Blooded Slytherin Professor. Perhaps he hired only muggles because he was demonstrating where he thought that muggles belonged on the class chain. It made Harry feel slightly sick.

"They live with you and don't know magic exists?" Harry couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. Snape practically exuded magical energy; Harry could feel it thrumming along the bare arm that was closest to the man.

Snape finally looked down at him; sporting a perfectly manicured raised eyebrow, "They know of it, they don't understand it, however, and would be entirely unable to tell you anything about it. I would prefer that you didn't bother them with things that you know are meaningless to them."

Harry had a thousand more questions now than he'd had before Snape had answered him, "Just how many people are on 'staff'?" Harry couldn't help imitating Snape's inflection on the word.

Snape noticed it, Harry could tell, but he just shook his head. "There are two maids, the Housekeeper and my butler and valet. There's also the cook."

Harry laughed. "Just for your sake?"

Snape didn't seem offended but it was obvious that he was tiring with the conversation, "The estate is large."

"This is an estate? How big is it? Is this like a manor house, and are there like cottages on the edges of the property with tenants? Oh my God, do you have springtime harvest festivals where your subjects present to you the best of their crop?" Harry's tone was deliberately oozing with sarcasm so he was completely thrown when Snape responded entirely seriously.

"Yes, of course. I just told you, this is an estate." Snape paused for a moment, "The festivals are no longer quite the affair these days, however, as they were in the past. I don't often attend, as I am usually still at school."

"Um, just for peace of mind's sake, just exactly how loaded are you?"

Snape frowned down at him, making Harry feel something akin to a cockroach scampering across the polished floor. But instead of answering Harry's question Snape changed the subject. "Lunch is at one o'clock. I suggest you rest until then." Snape made to leave.

"That's all I've been doing. I don't want to rest anymore. I'm tired of beds!" Harry complained, fully aware that he sounded about five years old but he didn't really care anymore.

Snape huffed, and Harry secretly cheered at having successfully pulled the frustrated sigh from the man, "Well, what do you want to do?"

"What can I do?"

Snape frowned and waved a hand absently, "Whatever you want. But if you go outside take the stable hand with you, no sense in you wondering off and getting lost. Especially with that concussion."

"There're horses?!" Harry just barely stopped himself from jumping up and down on the spot.

Snape seemed vaguely amused as he nodded. "Through the kitchens, the courtyard opens onto the back of the stable."

Catching the amusement in Snape's eyes Harry flushed with embarrassment and made a conscious effort to stand still. "Oh, well, maybe later," Harry tried desperately to affect a disinterested tone.

But realized he'd probably failed when Snape's eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "In any case Mr. Potter perhaps it would be best if you did rest now until the midday meal, and then I will personally give you a thorough tour of the estate."

Suddenly Harry's bones felt heavy, and he could think of nothing better than resting them on that large bed in the middle of the room but as he stepped forward the room suddenly began to spin and Harry found himself abruptly sitting on the ground. That was surprising enough on its own but Snape was on the floor with him in a flash and the genuine concern that Harry saw in the obsidian eyes was enough to start him on another dizzy spell.

The professor stared at Harry deeply for a moment and then when he stood he pulled Harry up with him and held Harry gently but firmly against his side.

Snape said not a word as he led Harry to the bed; he pulled the covers down and waited for Harry to climb in. Harry's shoes were still on but Harry couldn't find any will to remove them, and then he didn't have to worry because Snape was already unlacing the old sneakers and placing them neatly by the side of the bed. The covers were tucked gently around Harry and his glasses carefully removed. Harry only felt these gestures as he was already half way asleep and was therefore later unsure if the soft fingers caressing his cheek and hair were dream or reality.


End file.
